Honshou
by Begriffsschrift
Summary: For the rationalist, the unreasonable nature of the human condition serves as both a foe and a saving grace. The conflict is clear, but how to deal with it, exactly, is...not. L/Light/L; a series of independent drabbles.
1. Corrupt and Conquer

A/N: With these drabbles, I am going to explore various attitudes/outlooks L and Light may have regarding their humanness, and to what extent/what manner do they indulge their nature (or resist it). This first piece reflects an attitude of jaded resignation, and a calculated indulgence of humanness.

Here's slight cynicism and black humor for ya. :)

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**Corrupt and Conquer**

"Hypocrite."

The word itself was accusatory, but L's smile and tone betrayed amusement.

(Even praise, though a tired and jaded sort.)

"So Kira-kun honestly considers me more interesting than mass-murder and world dominance?"

"The bored have a very good eye for these kinds of things, L." The self-appointed god absently twirled his killing pen as he relaxed in his chair. "And given the amount of resources and energy requisite for world dominance versus maintaining a relationship with you, I think you are well aware of which yields more benefits with the least expense."

"I would think that the lack of expense would be under-stimulating to you."

"Expense was just the most convenient substitute for a dire lack of intellectual companionship, which you will readily provide me. "

'_So certain, Kira-kun… I guess he figures etiquette is a waste of breath because he knows I won't decline.'_

"…So your dream of reforming the world, becoming god, and exacting your justice?"

"A game is a game. Sometimes we grow tired of how we choose to distract ourselves."

Had he been talking to anyone other than L, he may have been rewarded with a look of disgust or horror at his flippant attitude. L simply gave him a smile of kinship, because his own values were no more commendable. He understood—justice was simply a pretty lacquer for self-interest.

Because really, connotations and human welfare aside, good will was merely another distraction.

"You're moving on, then."

"Aa."

"How do you plan to clean up your messes?"

"You can do that efficiently with your influence."

"Considering the circumstances, that's a highly unreasonable request."

"But you won't decline."

"Kira-kun knows me well."


	2. Raison d’Être

A/N: This piece portrays an attitude of denial—two rationalists indulging humanness by displacement from reality. L and Light use small doses of illusion and childlike joy to cope with living.

* * *

**Raison d'Être**

**(Reason To Be)**

The light was gentle as the rain fell in the afternoon. The drops made low whispers on the roof, their secrets gone unheard as their many siblings talked over each other.

There was nothing to do. The tea had long gone cold, and the ceramic cups only served now as décor for the coffee table, like the untouched stack of books filled with small sentiments and platitudes and knowledge only useful for spurring conversation.

And doing nothing was okay, they had decided, leaning against each other and twining lazy fingers, letting their thoughts become quiet and disorganized—lost in the peace of room. Despite their inherent allure to eventfulness, neither could bring themselves to shatter such a perfect moment of comfortable nothingness.

L's hands were soft, and Raito's shoulder was warm… That was reason enough for them to stay as they were—unproductive, still, and content.

So they sat in the perverse calm of the eye of the hurricane, silently grateful as time and motion and life spared them. And, oddly enough, having pushed their "purposes" to the wayside, their _raison d'être_ had never been so clear.


	3. Where Duties Lie

AN: What is morality in the face of happiness, and vice versa? The following is Watari's perspective on the L/Light relationship. Unbeta'd

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**Where Duties Lie**

He frowned as he held the surveillance tapes and contemplated the confidential destruction bin.

Watari had never doubted L's judgment before. As a subordinate, he respected L's decisions. As a father of sorts, he gave L his trust.   

Implicitly, his duty was to L, and L's duty was to mankind. That system was the grounds of Watari's clean conscience, despite some of the rather…unorthodox methods that the detective used. He had to admit, L had always reached the desired outcome, however the means. The older man could live himself, bearing that knowledge in mind.

L was changing—for, oddly enough, the better and the worse. L, who had always been detached and isolated (probably more than what was healthy for him), was finally reaching out. He had found someone—someone who could nurture his stunted social growth, someone who could compensate for his arrant lack of a childhood. But this development, unfortunately, was glaringly incompatible with his job and the interests of the world.

It was a terrible trick of fate that this person should have to be Kira. L knew it and Watari knew it—perhaps not by concrete evidence, but by the visceral sort of knowledge that didn't transfer to paperwork. But neither of them, their sense of ethicality notwithstanding, had been proactive about preventing this train wreck of a relationship.

The gravely conflicting facets of the matter were a raging, omnipresent torrent in Watari's mind. If L's duty shifted from 'justice,' what responsibility should he assume as an assistant? What was his priority—the welfare of many, or the happiness of this child (which, intelligence and influence aside, L still was) who had suffered more than most? Did he have the right to begrudge L of a normal human experience for the sake of the world?

What a quandary. Such morally ambiguous questions were probably not a good thing for his age.

He was truly happy for L—the footage was, well…lurid, but full of more life than he had ever seen in the detective. Full of joy and passion and arms slung around shoulders—shoulders that carried too much responsibility for any one person—and most strikingly, an overflow of love.

But it didn't stop him from feeling as if he was about to commit a disservice to humanity by concealing the truth.

The entire situation was unfair. It was unfair that L and Kira could use the world as an arena for their warped courtship, unfair that the world could deprive the two of the liberation they craved, unfair that he could fulfill his selfish desire as a 'parent' and place L above all else. Who, in this mess, deserved to be selfish?

In silently apology to the world, Watari found his resolve. Even if it would be a one-way ticket to hell, he would keep his promise to his…son. The truth would never meet anyone else's eyes. He dropped the tapes into the bin and sealed it.   

Happiness, morality… It was all too vague sometimes.   

At least he knew where his duty belonged.  

FIN


	4. Ambivalence

A/N: I'm just going to mention that this is unbeta'd, written at 3 AM for venting purposes, etc. (so as to ascribe blame elsewhere than my own possible incompetency if it's rushed or constructed strangely, lol.) Oh yes, and I do not own anything. Warnings: extreme multilayer irony (possibly overdone) and angst, angst, angst. Here is L's inner conflict.

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**IV. AMBIVALENCE**

L didn't know what had made Kira so cruel.

"_You're a beautiful person,"_ Kira would say, close enough to make the black hair shudder with his breathing. Until the fateful November 5th, the words were a daily ritual.

…Those whispers in L's ears in the nearly imperceptible windows of time when L looked away from the screen, those chilling compliments as L paused to stir his coffee… It was torture—subtle and malicious, metastasizing.

'_Mocking me…' _

It wasn't leering sarcasm, no—that was too "base" for Kira. Just his act of boyish ingenuity and camaraderie was enough to push L near the edge. The nerve, for him to be simulating innocence at this point, when L's gut senses screamed of Raito's guilt! The humiliation, to know the truth at simple eye contact, but have "incomplete evidence" shoved in his face! The frustration, to have to play along as that insufferable bastard flaunted pseudo-friendships and feigned first love!

There was nothing else to call it except "cruelty." Terrible, unwarranted cruelty. Kira—forcing his hand in this terrible dance. The pretense made him want to crawl out of his skin. The investigation team was now just an audience for this macabre bal masqué, this nauseating _tragedy_. That stupid, unwitting crowd (dazzled and contented with the masks and the sequins) could not see his descent into madness as they naively searched for a different culprit. A culprit that wouldn't break their hearts with betrayal, a culprit that wouldn't hit so close to home.

His reasoning was starting to crumble. L was certain he'd go insane. He could _taste_ his end approaching. Only his ears could pick out the death wishes in Kira's murmured sweet nothings.

"_You're a beautiful person."_

It would play like a record, in that _impeccably_ genuine voice, quietly but persistently in his wakeful state. In L's small lapses into sleep, that sweet voice would amplify viciously.

It hurt. The words spurred an ache in his chest—a feeling he had long pushed aside, resurfacing. Because he wasn't "beautiful." Not in the way of aesthetics (though that had never really concerned him anyway), nor in the way of personality. He already admitted to selfishness, arrogance, immaturity… Beauty? It was a joke.

'_He's just toying with you before he kills you,'_ his intelligence kept telling him. _'He's the type that likes to play with his food.' _

But he couldn't stop himself from wanting to believe. It was so tempting… Would he feel less pain if he let himself be flattered? Let his judgment cloud and his heart race? He wanted to be content with just the masks and the sequins, to be blind and stupid and bet _everything_ on that damned "genuine" voice…

'_That would be indulgent…' _But if decisive ignorance would save him pain, did he care what happened to the world? Did he care about upholding his ideals?

An answer at the eye of the matter.

On November 5th, he could have saved his life with selfishness. Could have deceived himself and everyone else like a coward, could have made himself not a threat to Kira. Could have clung to existence and gaudy illusions.

But, as Raito stood in the grass, looking at that face finally at rest in the black coffin, he said genuinely, as always:

"You're a beautiful person."

And he let his tears fall.

FIN


	5. Prayer

**Title:** Honshou ("True Character"), Independent Drabble V

**Characters: **Light-centric

**Rating:** No specific age, really, but use discretion anyway? Mature themes, tragedy, and extreme angst.

**Summary:** Kira prays.

**AN: **An unbeta'd prompt by **alias_llawliet** . The word "prayer." And WTF is up with me writing tragedies? I don't think I could write fluff if my life depended on it.

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**PRAYER**

It was probably due to his innate adroitness—the sheer proficiency that set him apart from the millions—that made praying seem inane to him. Hoping blindly for something favorable when he had the faculties to work towards it was just silly. He would not wait to be saved by something or someone (or by some supernatural force, for that matter).

Reality was reality, and he would shape the existence he wanted with his own hands. It had always been his life—he would define what was best for him, his own expectations were more than sufficient, and he'd save himself.

He'd play his own God, and that would be enough for him to survive.

It was raining, and he laughed—harsh, alien guffaws that simmered down to wracking sobs as he reveled in his success and consequent failure. Raito shook the dust and sand free from Rem's black notebook and hugged it to his chest, grinning madly from ear to ear while his wet eyes failed to echo the same sentiments of amusement. Everything was blurry, and he was kneeling in Rem's remains, but he didn't care.

L was dead. Hilarious! He had such little experience with being "wrong" in his own logic that it had to escalate to this point for him to have a breakthrough! He had never known what was in his best interests after all, and he was proficient—adroit, whatever—at _bullshitting _himself! For someone so world-weary and cynical, how naïve he had been!

All this time, blinded by self-reliance and his own competency, he didn't realize that what he needed most was another person—someone like him. But he had dismissed that chance as a hindrance to his own "needs!"

The whole situation was just _sidesplitting_ in its irony. He traced a finger over the names in the book.

_L Lawliet… Quillish Wammy…_

He felt the laughter bubble up in his chest again and his heart ached. There were fresh tears and stopping them no longer mattered. Everything was so far out of his control and it was simply refreshing! Life had never been in his control in the first place, and somehow, this sudden revelation made him feel less responsible than he should have. The foundation of his mentalities had crumbled and he was free—liberated. In his loss and off his pedestal, he was so helpless, and suddenly felt more included in the world and the sad, human race than ever before.

Raito now understood why people prayed.

In earnest—even through the strained chuckles—he clasped his hands together, the Death Note sitting in his lap, the knees of his pants dusty. And Yagami Raito prayed for the first time. He prayed for any semblance of control again—to stop his frenzied laughing, to stop crying, to stop fucking _hurting_. He prayed for the forgiveness that he knew he didn't deserve, and he prayed for things to be _better_ again, since rationality had only gotten him _so_ far. He prayed for someone else to come find him, save him, and take responsibility, since he had killed L—probably the one person who could have.

"Amen."

He didn't know why he felt that overwhelming relief as he let his hands fall to his lap, resting atop the book. He had done nothing tangible, and it was okay. He had lost it, and it was okay.

***

Kira's reign would end two days later when Raito's body was found in bathtub of the Yagami residence, silent under the surface of the water.

Soichiro's eyes tightened at the words he left behind, written on a small sheet of paper on the sink, clipped to the two Death Notes (one slightly musty-smelling from being unearthed), and a stack of L's investigation notes with newly scribbled addendums about the truth and his guilt. It wasn't in Raito's customary print-like script, but it was without doubt his handwriting.

"_I'm sorry for being Kira. But I understand things now. Thanks for putting up with me until then."_

Soichiro apologized to the empty bathroom that he had not been the one to save him.

Kira was so human, after all.

FIN


End file.
